


Because the love of a Mother is infinite.

by Ewind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, James Potter Lives, Lily Evans Potter Lives, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27313321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewind/pseuds/Ewind
Summary: When Eleanor is nearly kissed by Dementors during the summer before fifth year, Death and Magic take actions to avoid her death.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 17
Kudos: 143
Collections: HMS Harmony Discord Writing Fest - Jily Meets Harmony Challenge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There have previously been challenges such as Reptilia28's "Don't Fear the Reaper" challenge which, while beloved and an inspiration for many great stories, has been done many times. It is past time that a new challenge was presented to the Harmony community. This challenge is aimed to be much different in tone and to utilize the potential in a setting that is not seen enough in HHr fics. Introducing the....
> 
> The Jily Meets Harmony Challenge
> 
> Must include:  
> 1\. James/Lily and Harry/Hermione strictly.  
> 2\. James and Lily must be alive. Either by surviving Halloween, coming back to life, or their canon deaths never happening/being avoided.* Sirius should also live.  
> 3\. Lily must at some point braid Hermione's hair.  
> 4\. James and Harry must at some point fly together  
> 5\. Harry cannot have a Boy Who Lived sibling.  
> 6\. No Jily bashing  
> ** Notes. Can include either Time Travel or a Canon Divergence
> 
> Optional:  
> 1\. Line from James: "Are you sure you don't fancy Hermione?"

_Blood Magic is a broad field of magic, covering the use of the blood of a wizard or witch for a magical purpose, from warding to enslaving. In Great Britain, that field is seen as dark and yet nearly every old family had at one point used blood magic. Most of those families have only used it for ritual procreation to secure powerful heirs of the desired sex to gain political advantages through wedlock. Few are the ones who dug deeper into the darkness that lays into that field. Among them, the Blacks are known to have birthed some of the darkest blood magic rituals in the world, including one changing the sex of an infant yet to be borne by the ritual sacrifice of the infant while still in the womb._

**Lawrence Abbot** , An overview of Magic in Great Britain, 1960.

Square Grimmauld, 2nd of August 1995

Hermione had arrived at 5 Square Grimmauld a few days after the Hogwart Express had entered London. That arrangement worked better for her parents anyway. While they tolerated her better now that they had gotten their independence back and weren’t constrained in their daily lives by the social expectation of caring for a child, they still resented her. She was a weight they never had intended to care for. As long as she was perfectly doing what was expected of her (also known as a being as close as possible of a pretty flower) in society, their parents had accepted her. She had never cared much for playing a flowerpot, keeping her mouth shut and doing what was expected of her. After all, there was a reason why she did end up in Gryffindor. Outside of the Hat being too afraid of what she would have done to the majority of the Slytherins, had she been sorted there.

Those holidays had ended up being both heaven and hell. Heaven, because Sirius had allowed her near full access to the Black Library, and the wards around the townhouse allowed her to use magic, as long as she was cautious of avoiding Molly. The latter was the reason why it was hell: the Weasley matriarch had arrived at the same time as her and decided to take charge of things in Sirius’ house. Things including obviously her son's relationship and Hermione’s timetable. Hermione had ended up cleaning the house without magic, always forced by Molly to partner with Ron. She asked herself if Molly’s plan was finding a romantic interest for her son, or if it was simply to make sure she respected the Headmaster’s standing order of no contact with Elie. Probably both. 

The fact that both objectives were doomed to fail didn’t matter for Molly. Ron was at best someone she tolerated for the sake of Eleanor and the feelings were reciprocated. He was a lazy and arrogant lout who criticized everything she enjoyed. The matriarch probably wanted someone who could ride herd on her youngest son and compensate for his number of failures but that wouldn’t happen. On top of that, Ron had a major flaw: he was a boy. And that was a deal-breaker for her. Regarding Elie, she had talked herself blue trying to get the idiots in the Order to understand that leaving someone riddled by survivor’s guilt isolated in a place she hated wasn’t the right to do for the mental stability of said person. It has been a complete and utter failure. 

Sirius had agreed, but he couldn’t do much. Most of them had taken a paternalizing stance: she was only a little girl and couldn’t know much about the conduct of war. A bit of discomfort was a small price to pay for security, and she should let the veteran of the first war running the operations. Lupin, ranging himself firmly with Dumbledore, had even said that she must have been exaggerating the hatred between the Dursleys and Eleanor. Ron, Fred, and George’s testimony of bars on the window in the summer before 2nd year was dismissed with “It must have been for the burglars” and the young were sent to scrub by hand, with a notice to stop bothering the adults running that show.

Hermione had spent the last month trying to find a way to contact her. She had seen the communication variant of the Patronus charm and intended to use that. So, she spent every waking moment she could scrap away from the surveillance of the adults staying the Headquarters to learn the Patronus and that communication variation. She was nearly there. She simply hoped it wouldn’t be too late to help the raven-haired girl. The sheer amount of time and effort she had put in to simply learn how to form a shield really put into perspective that said girl had driven off over a hundred Dementors at thirteen. If Eleanor applied herself a bit, she could probably do anything she wanted. Well, as long as she wasn’t infected by Ron’s laziness, that is. When she couldn’t hide from the adults to practice, she had started reading every book in the Black’s library that wasn’t at Hogwarts. And they were numerous. Hermione had to hide to do so because Molly had gotten on a rant the only time she had seen one. According to her all the books in that library should be burned because they were only concerning Dark magic. That had really angered the young witch: books were information and should never be destroyed. Information wasn’t necessarily meant to be acted upon, but needed to be stored and preserved.

The chestnut-haired witch had started to realise that Hogwarts curriculum was an introduction to the magical world, the bare requirement so that one didn’t blow himself up on a regular basis when going around in his daily life. It didn’t cover things that were either considered known by everybody and mastered in infancy: magical theory, Latin classes, the why and how of wixen society were simply some of it. Since everybody knew them, no real reason for those subjects to be taught in formal classes according to the Board of Governors. Nowadays, only old-family children and muggleborns attended Hogwarts: the prestige was what mattered for the old families, and muggleborns did not have a choice. Old families compensated for the deficit in education by tutoring. The others school in Britain didn’t accept muggleborns due to logistic constraints. Nearly all of them were day schools, reachable only through magical transportation. Some Headmasters of Hogwarts had tried to ban muggleborns from Hogwarts, wanting to reserve the place to the so-called elite of Wizarding Britain. It had failed, since per the founding documents, Hogwarts had to teach to all, and the ones who tried never managed to bypass the enchantments of the Founders. And so, Hogwarts had slowly fallen : from giving to everybody the best possible education to being some sort of private club that was attended either for prestige or for lack of information and choice. The first was compensated by private tutoring while the other issues were ignored, deemed not important enough.

That was how she had discovered the concept of magical affinity and the question of relationship in the wizarding world. The social structure often made it so that those were ignored. The high society was almost feudal in its structure and marriage of convenience were common, often in close blood relation to keep the lines pure and familial magic concentrated on as few individuals as possible. Those unions were not forced, as one had to enter a magical marriage from his own free will but love and compatibility were often buried under pile of duties and indoctrination to serve one’s family. Some of the love potions had been invented to make those situations a little more bearable. The wixen world had quickly learned to ban their use on non-consenting wix, and the more powerful of those potions, closer to liquid Imperius than anything else, were banned from even being taught.

But those circumstances were rare. Today, with a population of over three hundred thousand witches and wizards in Great Britain, the hundred or so noble House represented a minority of the population. A very powerful, well connected, and rich minority, but a minority that was getting slowly replaced by other families, with less history and who had lost less in the last war. Families like the Blacks or the Potters had been dominating the political system of Wizarding Britain for nearly two millennium. Some of the oldest Houses came from with the Romans, some emerged from the local wix population, some from more distant land.

When Arthur, the Undying King, finally retired from this world at the eve of the 9th century, the Wixen Council was formed. Those twelves families, tied by blood past and present to the last king of magical Britain, became the hearth of wixen Britain. They were slowly joined by others, and in 1215 the Wizengamot was formed. From twelves to over a hundred family, creating a government to create the law and make sure it was respected. The separation from the muggle world is complete and yet, the Ministry is still supposed to uphold the law of the land, muggle and magical alike, and wait for the Undying King return.

During the last century or so, those Houses had suffered the most: some got wiped out during Gridenwald wars, some got destroyed during the first Blood War, most survived on the brink of extinction. The ministry officials gained more and more power, as the importance of the Wizengamot diminished. The Wixen Council, the twelve founding families, could in theory veto a law if they had the absolute majority, and had an important official and non-official role in the day to day conduct of operation. 

As a rule, wixen society didn’t care much about sexual orientation. If natural or magical procreation wasn’t possible for biological reasons, magical and blood adoption did exist. As long as the bloodline was kept alive and there wasn’t any doubt on the filiation at any point during the pregnancy, everything was fine. Traditional family were more likely to oppose an union on blood purity or political issues than homophobia or racism.

It was late, nearly 10 pm when the whole Headquarters started to be filled with noise, as everybody arrived without a care in the world, to the point where Walburga’s portrait shrieking and insults were drowned under the brouhaha made by all those witches and wizards gathering. Something had happened, and it was probably bad. The doors opened and people barged in.

*****

4 Privet Drive, 2nd of August, around 21h00

Eleanor’s despair was starting to be replaced by anger. It had been nearly a month and a half since she had been stuck at the Dursleys, stranded with people who hated her and no information on what was going on. 

The Dursleys had started fearing her again and Vernon had tried to spend his frustration on Eleanor by starving her. That had been his tactic since she was little, and hunger was known quantity. Anything happened even remotely different than perfectly standard and she starved. Any little contrariety and she starved. The abuse never went beyond. After all, it wouldn’t do for marks to be visible. And yet, starvation and psychological abuse were common in the Dursleys household. The abuse was something of a routine and didn’t really matter. she was past caring about her relatives' behaviour.

The lack of information was driving her mad. The raven-haired witch spent all day asking herself what Voldemort was doing and all-night having nightmares of what had been done to her in the past. A sickly green Halloween day was melded with a mirror, the scent of burning flesh pungent in the room. A giant Basilisk came out of a cauldron in a clearing near a lake frozen by Dementors. All the torments Eleanor had lived mixed into one. And she screamed.

She was thinking about all of that, sitting on a nearly destroyed swing in the park. The sun-burned grass had started to even disappear spot by spot on the most frequented path. It was beginning to be late, the glowing orb of the sun nearly disappearing under the horizon. In the distance, a storm was starting to appear. The dark masses of clouds were a blanket that obscured the sky, thunder rolling far away. Ellie started thinking that she needed to move and go back home: if she was wet when coming back, she would probably be forbidden to eat and get out of the house for the remainder of the week once more. Dudley and his gang entered the park the instant Eleanor rose for the swing seat. She didn’t really look forward to a confrontation with her land whale of a cousin. The group of boys, five in total, were bullies that terrorized the young ones in the neighbourhood. They had trashed the very park they were now standing in as well the bus stop. Petunia has criticized the vandal who had done the trashing, saying that good and well-behaved kids like Dudley wouldn’t do such a thing. She left the park before she could be cornered, not wanting to deal with that right now. She managed to avoid the discussion, at the price of enduring the taunts. She was well past caring for that. 

Eleanor took shelter from the incoming rain under a bridge. She could hear the rumbling of the cars made on the pavement above her, the rhythmic thudding of the heavy rain hitting the dry earth. The thunder boomed in the distance, cancelling every other noise. The downpour was such that the desiccated earth could not manage to absorb it fast enough. Puddles started forming at either end of the tunnel, a filthy concoction of mud and other debris filling them. The temperature had dropped with the beginning of the storm, from sweltering to tolerable. 

When the water started to freeze and the temperature dropped further, Ellie got his holly wand out of its holster sewn by hand into the seams of his jeans. The solution wasn’t elegant, but it was the best she could do while stuck at Privet Drive. The wood felt warm in her hand, magic wanting to surge and flow out of her. She waited, back to wall, his breath shortening as time passed. Only one creature could produce such an effect. And here they were: two dementors, black cloaks billowing behind them, draping their skeletal figures in shadows, on each side of the tunnel. She concentrated on the memory she used: her parents in the mirror of Erised. How they seemed to care for her, to love. How they had died so she could live. She remembered the warmth she had felt when Hermione had hugged her after she had been cured of the petrification. Warmth pooled in her. She even thought she could smell the perfume Hermione had worn when they had ridden Buckbeak to save Sirius. All her senses were trying to picture the same thing: happiness. Concentrating, she whispered the incantation: _Expecto Patronum._ Prongs shot forward, the white stag charging one of the creatures, antlers down as if to impale the monster. Of course, it was a lost cause: you couldn’t damage or kill one of those, just repel them. 

Dudley chose that instant to arrive, running to seek shelter from the storm. The dementor reacted instantly, turning toward the newcomer to kiss him. Dudley fell to the ground, whimpering nearly instantly. Cursing under his breath, Ellie directed Prongs to save her cousin. She might hate him, but she didn’t wish the Dementor’s kiss on her worst enemy. That was a mistake. While the Patronus was dealing with one of them, the other approached, intending to kiss the raven-haired girl. Eleanor, distracted by the fate of her cousin, wasn’t paying it enough attention. She realised his mistake when she felt the cold worsen. The beast was less than two meters away. Too close, too soon. The despair, the lack of sleep due to the nightmares and past traumatisms won. The starvation aggravated by the shear amount of calories used by magical people made it even worse. Prongs faded away into nothingness. 

Ellie was down, slumped against the wall, trapped inside a Dementor-fuelled vision of a nightmarish creature, white skin, blacks’ scales and red eyes rising out of the cauldron, of green light hitting an auburn woman. The creature approached its next meal. A soul shard, a tiny sliver of something much larger broke free. Tethered in that scar by the magical counterblow to the Killing Curse fourteen years ago and pulled out of the now bleeding curse scar by the soul-sucking capacity of a Dementor. That sliver never had the occasion to entrench itself. The beasts were under the complete control of the Ministry and had been given orders. Eleanor Potter had to be kissed. That meagre fare didn’t mean that the order was complete. Lifting his hood, the creature approached from the limp form of the girl. Eleanor knew no more. 

Adrestia was ready to go from annoyed to angry. That creature called Riddle had tried to cheat the natural order of things by surviving beyond what he should have done. The tethers he had created were abominations that shouldn’t exist. That had annoyed her. So, the incarnation of Magic had intervened, using the sacrifice of James and Lily to protect their young infant. The toddler had survived. Until now. Those beasts, results of failed experiments, were going to kill her. And she couldn’t do… Wait, couldn’t she do anything? She couldn’t get past the veil or intervene herself, but Death could. And those items were also insulting to her so maybe, together, they could find a way to make sure that Destiny was met, and Riddle died. He even had defiled the one of her Hallows. An instant of conciliation passed, and Death agreed to their plan. Tonight, wouldn’t be the death of Eleanor Lilly Potter. Service to Magic came with duties, but it also came with rewards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Jily meets Harmony challenge from the HMS Harmony Discord that is right there : https://discord. gg/6Xn93jEGsR.  
> Update Schedule : non-existent, will depends a lot on my available time. I'm not a native speaker and don't have a Beta so sorry for the faults.


	2. Chapter 2

Since the Statute of Secrecy was instituted in 1689 and complete separation from the Crown was confirmed in 1692, the Wizarding World in Great Britain is governed by the Ministry for Magic. Legislative power is in the hands of the Wizengamot, who also serves as a court for High Justice. The Ministry, by the office of the Minister for Magic, can present new laws to the vote of the Wizengamot. Low Justice is fielded by the Office of Prosecution of the Department of Law Enforcement. The Chief Warlock of the Wizenmagot office has little official power inside the chamber but benefits from an important position between the Office of the Minister and the Wizenmagot, allowing for gaining and using a lot of influence.

 **Elladora Harrington** , Political Structure of Great Britain at the start of the Blood War, 1985

James and Lily were looking at the scene from the other side of the veil, starting to despair for the survival of their daughter when they were yanked by their navel. The feeling was close to the one of a portkey, but a thousand time more intense. An explosion of pure saturated magic resonated in the tunnel under the motorway. Together, hand in hand, they breathed for the first time in 14 years. They were standing there, in that tunnel, wands in hands, garbed in the battles robes they had been entombed in. An instant later, a stag and a hippogriff sprung to life, their ethereal forms charging the Dementors. Warmth came back to the tunnel as the unnatural chill disappeared from the air.

Lily dropped to her knees near Eleanor’s form, still limp against the wall of the tunnel. Her wands flashed forward, waving in intricate patterns over her while she muttered incantations. The diagnostic spell settled on her daugther, and Lily looked at the feedback. Light flashed above her in a pattern, numbers scrolling before the green eyes of the auburn-haired witch. James, during that time, had gone to make sure that the Dementors were gone and look after the lump that was Dudley. Unlike his wife, he was not a trained Healer but knew enough to get around. Visibly, the beasts had been ordered to kiss Eleanor and his daughter’s Patronus had done the job: Petunia’s son had escaped the attack pretty much intact. At least he was alive and still had his soul. That was good enough.

“The Dementors are gone, and that one didn’t get kissed.” His voice resonated in the tunnel, covering the sound of the vehicles and the rain. Swish and flick. The lump form on the ground started floating above the ground, following the older man who got back to his wife. Lily had risen, Ellie’s body lifted off the ground like on a stretcher.

“We need to move somewhere safe. Eleanor is going to be fine. Probably. She is just physically and magically exhausted.” The famous scar had reopened under the effect of Dementors, and Lily had cleaned the wound. What had been a red and angry thing would fade into nothingness over time. “My sister’s home is going to do the job for now. And I will be able to speak with her and her walrus of a husband.” James did not miss the steel underlying her tone and was not going to speak up. Trying to stop a flood with his bare hands would likely be more successful. Casting a Notice-Me-Not on the still form of Dudley, he transfigured his robes into a jean and a shirt. He looked and felt like he had when he had been killed, nearly 14 years ago. Transfiguring Lily’s robes into a jean and a blouse and casting a Notice-Me-Not on Eleanor’s levitating body was the affair of a few seconds.

“Let us move. And try no to kill your sister, that would be messy”. The quip was trying to be light-hearted but failed to be. The glare the green-eyed witch shot him was impressive enough to stop a charging dragon. They moved under the rapidly decreasing rain, the deluge starting to stop. The thunder was only a loud rumbling in the far distance. They spoke quickly about what was going to happen. They had never thought to be alive once more, so had never discussed it. They knew that Adrestia and Death had intervened, deep in their souls. They knew that had to get help and deal with the horcruxes. Adrestia and death couldn’t tell them what they were or where they were, but it was why they were back alive. That certitude pulsed inside them. The streets were empty save for an old woman and her cats. They quickly arrived at 4 Privet Drive. Their bodies were not the only thing that had not seemed to evolve in 14 years: it was still the same uniform blandness, the same boring normality. Even in the drought touching the country the garden was perfectly cared for. James entered the house, not bothering to knock.

*****

Despite her bravado, Lily felt butterflies in her stomach as they moved through the streets. Wand in hand, she was scanning her surroundings, aware of the possibility on an attack. She was also thinking about that chance to live with Eleanor. She still did not know for sure what their task was, but they had been resurrected by Adrestia and Death for a reason. And she was going to get a pound of flesh from those that had wronged her family.

Lily had partial training in Healing, but she had never worked for any of the wizarding hospitals or even in private practice. She had left Hogwarts to join the Unspeakables and, after a crash course in Healing, had been sent on the frontlines of the war, performing emergency healing to stabilize her team members if needed, and else taking her share of the fight. She had fought and killed like everybody else. Nobody at the time would have been stupid enough to dismiss her as a threat. She would have to see the current Croaker, deal with Eleanor’s problems, and so on. So much to do. And it started now.

James opened the door, and they barged in, the two teenagers still unconscious floating behind them. Vernon had risen from the couch where he had been eating. His sweat and ice-cream-stained tee-shirt clung to his obese frame. He had started roaring before even reaching the corridor from the entry to the living room:

“What is that racket, freak. Do you think it’s normal to bar…”? The insults and critics died in his throat as he saw the scene. Two dead people living and breathing, his son inert floating a few centimetres over the ground, the same as his freak of a niece proved too much. He fainted. Petunia had followed and had to stabilize herself on the frame of the door. She seemed near fainting as well.

“James, take Vernon to a couch and make him conscious enough to speak. Put Eleanor on one of the couches, please. I am going to put Dudley in his bed. Petunia show me to his room. Now.”

The quiet sternness of Lily's voice conveying her anger far more than Vernon's roaring shouts. The older woman just obeyed, visibly relieved to have something to do. She passed Vernon limp body, which blocked half of the corridor, and tried to stay as far away from James as the cramped hallway would allow. She started to climb the stairs and opened the door to a room. The room was spacious enough, compared to the house. The bed was unmade, trash and discarded clothes were strewn around the room, but the furniture was obviously well made and expensive. Posters of bands plastered the walls, and the mess was everywhere. Lily had followed with Dudley. A swipe of a wand and the bed was relatively clean, and the room did not stink of rancid sweat anymore. One more and Dudley was spread on the bed.

“He is going to sleep until tomorrow morning. When is he up, he may not feel well. Give him chocolate and that will pass.” Lily had started speaking as she closed the door. “Which door is my daughter’s room now that she isn’t in a cupboard under the stairs?”. Petunia was visibly shaken to the core by the knowledge that her sister knew of that and pointed a finger toward a door. Lily opened the door.

The contrast with the room she had closed could not have been starker. The furniture was dingy, broken down. The bed was made but even that could not hide the springs poking out of the beaten-up mattress. The wardrobe was visibly falling into pieces, the desk a rough-sawn piece of wood thrown on two trestles. A beautiful snowy owl was in a cage on the far of the room, stuck in there by a lock.

Lily entered the room. A second later, she had freed said owl. “Hey there, beautiful. I’m going to need you to fly to London quickly for me.” Grabbing paper and pen, she quickly scribbled a note for Remus and Sirius. She swiftly attached the letter to the owl leg before letting the bird go through the window. A swipe of a hand latter, every important possession of Eleanor was in his school trunk. The extent of it was a shrunken Firebolt, a book of old pictures, a few galleons and the broomstick care-kit that was a gift from Hermione. Lily did not even bother with the clothes. The muggle one were castoff from Dudley and Petunia, little better than rags, and the school uniform would not do. She turned toward her sister, who had stayed by the entrance. She seemed to start processing what had happened:

“How? That freak was imposed on us because you are dead. You should be dead and yet it is you. Is it really you?” Petunia’s voice was grainy, she had difficulties speaking.

“I used to make flowers bloom for you, Petunia. Vernon should be up. We should go down; it will be more comfortable”. Lily voice could have cut steel. And with that, she took the lead.

The furniture in the room was top of the line and sparkling clean. It was the same for what Lily could see from the open kitchen. A wide television post occupied most of the wall in the living room. James was seated on one of the chairs, wand in hand. While it was not trained on Vernon it was not far off. The fat man was stuck in a chair a bit too small for his huge frame. It was a miracle the walrus was not screaming off his lungs and insulting everyone. She probably did not want to look too hard into what James had done to ensure that. Her daughter was lying down on the couch, tucked in a conjured blanket. She waited for Petunia to sit.

“Yes, I was dead. The how we are alive right now is not something you should know. It does not matter for you. I know how you treated my daughter. There are two reasons on why I do not do everything possible to throw you in jail: One, Eleanor was never supposed to be here and was imposed on you; and two, we frankly have better things to do. I simply won’t spend my time for it. Here is what is going to happen: you are going to leave the country. You are going to sell this house that was your wedding present from us, and you are going to leave. I don’t want to hear any argument.” Vernon missed the steel underlying what Lily’s had just said.

“Now you see, you freaks can’t just barge in and steal our house from us. We are hard-working, normal people. You just want to get the house because the prices are going up in the neighbourhood. We had to care your disgusting spawn.” What had started as a measured, for a man of Vernon’s temperament and size, rant as degenerated into a full-on screaming invective. A Silencing Spell struck him. James had been visibly annoyed and started to get angry.

“Listen to me Dursley: we were dead. We came from beyond the Veil to take care of that “disgusting spawn” as you put it. If I hear even one more disparaging comment, I swear before Adrestia that you will regret it. Am I clear? My daughter nearly suffered a fate worse than death to save your son. So, you are going to take your possessions, sell this hovel and leave the country in the next two weeks. Or you will end up lost in the middle the Arctic, naked as the day you were born. Am I clear?” The tone more than the content was enough to quell any rebellion. James’s voice was colder than ice and continued to drop. Lily’s hand ended up on his knee, squeezing to calm him down.

Two owls entered the room, one a tiny thing that moved like a kid on a sugar rush, the other one a huge screech owl. That one dropped the parchment before leaving. The letter was the following:

**Dear Ms Potter,**

**We have received intelligence that you were responsible for a major magical explosion of unknown source in the presence of Muggle, thus breaching the** **Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery Decree and the article 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards Statute of Secrecy from 1692.**

**Given the importance of the offences, you are hereby summoned for a formal hearing before the Office of Prosecution from the Department of Law Enforcement, at 10 am in the office of the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement. You are being authorized the council of a law-wizard of your choice. Pending the results, you are considered expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**Hoping you are well,**

**Yours sincerely,**  
Mafalda Hopkirk  
IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE 

**Ministry of Magic**

“Well, we are going to see about that, because they better have an explanation on why two dementors tried to Kiss her,” muttered James before giving the letter to Lily. She gave her husband the letter from the small owl. It was a letter from Arthur Weasley, saying not to move and not to surrender her wand to the ministry officials, that Dumbledore was taking care of everything. Lily folded the parchment before tucking it in the trunk sitting nearby.

“As I was saying, you are going to leave the country. You are never going to see us again. The man that killed us is back, and he will stop at nothing. You were protected once, but the wards have long since failed due to your hate of my daughter. The only reason you are still relatively safe is that he simply does not care enough to bother with you. As I said to Petunia, Dudley is probably going to be fine. He does not have the type of memories that those things are interested in. You are going to go to bed. We will probably be gone by morning, and you won’t hear a thing.”

Two electric-green orbs turned towards Vernon, who cowered in his chair.

“If you ever even think about abusing Petunia one more time, you will never be seen again. Am I clear? And Tuney if you want to leave you just have to say it.”

While speaking, Lily rose to her feet, wand in hand and started casting, muttering under her breath. Vernon seemed to be even more afraid if that was possible. His forehead was drenched in sweat. His face had been purpling for rage at the beginning was now pale as chalk.

“Uhm, Lily dear? Vernon may not be able to reach the stairs. I may have broken his leg, you know, by error. I did not realize it was stuck when I moved him. I stopped the pain for now but …”

“Well, it will be enough for him to reach the bed. They can go to the hospital tomorrow because I am not healing him. Oh, what I just used on you will warn me if you stay in Britain for one minute longer. Or if you even think of abusing by word or action my sister, you bastard. Now you move and go to your room. Our guests shouldn’t take much longer to arrive.”

*****

“Right on time,” thought James, as the bang of Apparition, was heard in the garden, away from prying eyes. That had the same effect as an electrical shock on the two vicious Muggles “Well, if we had been Death Eaters, they would have been too late”. The comment was made aloud. Vernon and Petunia started to move more quickly, the fat man helping himself on the wall. They disappeared from the living room and into the corridor. A few seconds later, the stairs groaned under the weight of the walrus. “I know I said I would let you deal with them, but …. Well, I wish he didn’t get away so easily”. Lily slipped her hand into his, trying to calm him down.

“We have to choose our battles and they aren’t worth it. Come, we will greet our guests.” The comment was made in her characteristic tone, the one she had when they were planning to go to war. Here goes nothing, the raven-haired man thought.

“Wand in hand and slowly, because if Moody is here, he will attack us without warning I think.” They left the living room and advanced through the dining room toward the double glass door leading to the back garden. The automatic lights had been triggered by the new arrivals. Two men and a woman were standing in the middle of Petunia’s prized flowers. The woman, in jeans, t-shirt and a dragonhide jacket had her wand in hand. A sandy-haired man, in dilapidated clothing, old and worn, as on her left. His wand wasn’t anywhere to be seen but he was clearly ready to draw and start cursing. The last man was smaller, with a prosthesis under his right knee, half the face covered in scars. His right eye was an electric blue and spinning on its own. His staff was a thick branch of oak, polished by the years. James and Lily moved further into the light to be seen. Lifting his wand to his heart, James started, in a formal tone:

“I swear on my magic and my life that I am James Charlus Potter, son of Charlus Cristopher Potter, known as Prongs. So, I swear, let Adrestia judge me. _Expecto Patronum_ ”.

The stag burst forward, his light illuminating the scene. The oath had been a precaution because James didn’t want to die so soon after walking this earth again. Remus rushed forward, taking James in his arms.

“Is it really you? How? We buried you. I identified your bodies…” The end of the sentence was a near wail. During that time, Moody and Tonks had approached. Remus and James separated, and the werewolf turned around to take Lily in his arm. She allowed it, returning the embrace.

“Yes, it’s us. We don’t know everything, and we can’t speak of what we know but we are here. Let’s get moving, we need to leave….”

“No lass, that changes everything. Even with that oath, we can’t trust…”

The old wizard didn’t even have time to finish. Lily interrupted him:

“Auror Moody, I know for a fact that you fought with team Delta from the Unspeakables during the last war. You didn’t seem to volunteer to test Tempest’s resolve at that time, I suggest you don’t do so now.” She ignored the surprised look from Remus and the girl. “We are getting Eleanor and we are leaving for what I guess must be the headquarters of the Order. If we don’t, I’m going to make you think back on that time as a warming up compared to what will happen. Am I clear?”

“Well, now I know why Tempest had disappeared after the war. I will warn Dumbledore” he said before turning. A form shot out of his wand, too fast for James to recognize the form of the Patronus.

Remus and James entered the living room, where Eleanor was still sleeping in a couch, covered by a plaid blanket. The raven-haired youth was still in a deep slumber, nearer to coma than regular sleep, her skin as pale as death, the scar on her forehead a jagged and fading cut. Her chest barely rose but did so steadily. Even like that, her bones were visible, too visible. The ire built up inside James, but he forced it down. Reckoning would come. He went to gather his heiress in his arms when Remus stopped him with a hand. He asked:

“Why is she under a glamour? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing of importance right now, except that we need to be gone from here before somebody comes by and the welcoming committee isn’t simply two dementors”.

James pushed past, gathered his heiress and went back to the garden where Lily was having a conversation in hushed tones with the woman in jeans. The trunk had been shrunk and stuffed inside a pocket, and they were ready. A note, in a neat and flowy script, was pushed in his hands. Once more, James would have to trust his family safety with the Fidelius. Once more. But not for long. 

Silently for some, with a bang for others, they all apparated away from 4 Privet Drive. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very slow update.  
> I had nearly finished that chapter when I decided to change some things that led to partial rewrite of chapter 1 and 2. If you read them after 12/01/2021 you are fine.  
> The differences are minimal, especially in chapter 2. Chapter 1 has some slight changes on the world building, but nothing major that makes rereading it mandatory. The rewriting is mostly deleting the hints of body change I had planned on, and all the gendered terms that needed switching.  
> I had planned on doing fem!harry forced to lived in boy body from October 1981 to the current time in the fic. I scrapped the body changing thing for multiple reason.  
> So it's fem!harry / hermione.

The exact nature of familial magic is even today an open question. Bound to a bloodline and yet only existing in one place, they are a dilemma. Magicals, whether they are witches, wizards or magical creatures, tend to imbue their living spaces with magic. It has been theorized that this magic, through centuries of continuous reinforcement, ended up gaining partial sentience in the wardstones of old families' houses. 

Most warding needed by magical households, whether for utility or security, is not demanding of so much power that it can’t be supported through proper runework and construction. However, keeping at bay a determined group of hostile and competent wizards is a whole other endeavour than doing it for a few petty thieves. The energy requirement of wards including offensive components was such that they had to rely on local storage of magical since they couldn’t simply be powered at all time. This storage was mainly in the form of wardstones, massive precious or semi-precious gemstones, fed by the denizens of such houses regularly. Other solutions involved tapping in naturally occurring ley-lines, but such places are few and far in between with only a handful of them in Great Britain, usually great Houses seat. 

Infusions of magic, in time, through generations and generations, gave partial sentience to the wardstone and created what is known now as Family Magic. Such defence schemes were the reason multiple generations and family branches lived in the same place, investing more and more of that family inside the halls of their domain. It allowed for better defences, the limited magical reserves of one family being pooled together rather than spread over multiple locations, but also created a weakness: if someone managed to destroy the wardstone anchoring and feeding all the protections were gone. And even worse, while procuring a gem big enough to be used as wardstone for the more extensive protection would be a nightmare in the modern age, nothing could ever replace centuries of continuous feeding of a wardstone. 

In the end, magic and blood spilt created and influenced family magic, and the reverse became true. Some of the rarer magical skills are nowadays as much a question of bloodline as familial magic. Metamorphmagus were never common, but today are found in only a handful of families. Parseltongue is another of such gifts, but that’s a more complicated subject (See the Ritual Magic chapter of the present book.). As of now, it is unknown whether other species of magical creatures created similar manifestations of sentience. 

Lawrence Abbot, An overview of Magic in Great Britain, 1960.

Lily stopped on the step to the main door of 12 Grimmauld Place. She turned toward the four other people. 

“Does the order have a healer on call other than Pomfrey? Anybody? I want Eleanor looked over after my … discussion with Albus.” 

Remus shared a look with Moody and Tonks before shrugging. It’s the last one that answered. 

“Well, I guess I could get my mother. She isn’t a member of the order but …” 

“It’s Andromeda Black right?” 

“Tonks. She had been disowned for refusing to marry the man her parents had picked for her and marrying my father.”

“Well, get her here. I don’t care that she isn’t a part of the order. “

The jean-clad woman spun her heels before disappearing with a soft sound. 

“Moody, Remus, would you be dear and get inside to warn the others to not interfere and to control Sirius.” 

Once the two men disappeared inside, James started: 

“I know we have more than cause and he will regret everything before the end, but it would make our position even more difficult if we kill him. And we do need him.” 

Not answering, Lily entered the house proper followed by James. Albus and some others were waiting in the hallway. The house smelled musty, the air stale. The decor was dreary, dust piled in the corners, the paint washed out. The only somewhat clean wall was behind the group, with a single portrait on it. 

“James, my boy, it’s a surprise to see you. You must tell me how you…” 

Lily was quivering with a barely contained fury. Her aura was flaring around her, a vibrant red mist of pure magic surrounding her. She was trying very hard to avoid attacking him out of pure rage. 

“We must? WE MUST? What did you do to her? If you are speaking of duty, why don’t we look into yours? I will get answers out of you, believe me, so start talking before I make you talk.”

Albus’s face decomposed under the shock of being so questioned. He looked like he was trying to weigh his options. He sighed, before answering in a low tone. 

“By the blood of the Lord, I so call on the fealty to your House. By the blood of the mother, I call upon the love you hold for your family. By the blood of the chosen, I call upon your magic as a sacrifice. I had to find a way to control her and protect her at the same time. Her magic was feral and hyper-reactive to anything, and she was going to live with muggles. She would probably have killed them all by accident the first time they panicked because her magic reacted.

A sharp intake of breath was heard from where Sirius had fallen to his knees. at the sight of his best friend. Dumbledore was still, not moving. At that instant, the Headmaster, Defeater of Gridenwald had never seemed so fragile. The contrast between the older man, in a purple robe, complete with a grey beard and hat and the smaller woman in trousers and blouse, aura flaring couldn’t be starker. The silence in the hallway was thick enough to be felt by everybody. 

“A way to lift that damned thing? It’s a bloody tap on her magic. You were trying to sustain Blood Wards from her. Even the damned Blacks weren’t mad enough to burden a child with that. “

A tall man with black skin and shaved head had started to move his hand toward his wand when Moody stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

“I don’t even know if there is a way to cancel it. I found it in a journal, in the Headmaster’s library at Hogwarts.

Lily huffed and looked at the Dumbledore. Time seemed to slow down. Slowly, Lily’s aura disappeared. Somebody, she didn’t know who in the Order stopped holding his breath. 

“Go to Hogwarts and bring those journals back. And every material for the final version you did use. Don’t dally on the way please, or we are going to have issues more pressing than simple disagreements. We may answer your questions later if we deem it necessary. You owe us, not the opposite. And kindly inform Severus that he and I are going to …. Talk.” 

Dumbledore looked at her, and then at Eleanor, still unconscious in her father's arms. For someone so renowned for controlling his expression, seeing him losing control of it was a rare occurrence. His kind and benevolent face came back, appearing from the slightly worried and even afraid one he had made before. 

“Well, I guess I deserved that. I will come back with what you need. I do hope we will work together in the future”. 

James left the entryway and entered the hallway proper, still carrying Eleanor while Remus helped Sirius to his feet. 

“See, Padfoot, I didn’t lie. Prongs is back.”

Before the sandy-haired man had even finished his sentence, Sirius was already rushing toward his best friend, openly weeping and going to embrace him. It was awkward, as Eleanor was in the middle of it, still unconscious in James’ arms. Sirius started to talk; more wailing drowned in sniffles than anything else.

“I’m so sorry, James, for telling you to make the rat your secret keeper. I may as well have killed you myself…When I abandoned Eleanor to get revenge, I failed you once more. Please, forgive me.”

Lily saw that the situation was going to take a few minutes to unfold and levitated her daughter out of James’s arm. The three men ended up in a pile in the hallway, and everybody gave them space. Most of the members of the Order left the hallway and moved down the corridor, toward a dimly lit room occupied by a massive table. The three companions spoke in a low voice, with the rare laughter fit or weeping sound louder.

Molly didn’t follow the group and moved toward Eleanor and Lily. 

“Well, who are you? And what did you do to the poor girl? Are you the reason she is like that? I’m going to take care of her, you can’t be trusted. We are as good as family for her. And one day she will be.”

She had been waiting for the explosion of temper from Molly. Even back when during the first war, the woman had a forceful temper and her brothers’ deaths had not solved that issue, quite the opposite. The last jab was too much. Ice would have been hotter than Lily’s voice: 

“I believe Moody told you not to anger me. Think, woman. I’m the reason you are not crying at the bedside of a soulless corpse right now. Voldemort wasn’t able to deny me caring for the flesh of my flesh, nor was the Veil. Do you want to test my resolve by trying to deny me? Or are you going to do the smart thing and let us do what must be done?”

For herself, Lily admitted that she probably had overreacted and given up too much information, but the situation was complicated. Molly seemed to be quelled by the way the answer was delivered as much as its content. 

“Well… I guess I won’t try to stop you. But be sure I will raise it to the Headmaster. For all we know, you would be resurrected in a dark ritual to manipulate and destroy us.”

“If that was the case, we simply would have let the Dementors do what they wanted. Well, I don’t have more time for that particular discussion. Try to stop me at your own peril.”

Lily turned toward the still weeping and laughing pile in the middle of the corridor. She approached it before clearing her throat. The three of them took a little time to stop their apologizing and pity party. 

“While I can understand all of you, we need to get going. We will have time for that later. Given the decor, I guess we are at the Black’s house, Sirius? If so, I guess you have a somewhat warded room somewhere in this hovel? Because we are going to need it. Moody, send Andromeda to…”

The door opened on Andromeda with her pink-haired daughter behind. The woman in the front had long curly black hair and the distinctive Blacks eye, a grey similar to the moonlight.

Sirius rose to his feet and went to meet Lily. He stepped forward and hugged the shorter women and seemed to be ready to restart his apologizing crisis. She allowed it for a time, before stepping back. She started to talk: 

“It’s lovely seeing you Andi, you look wonderful. To quell the questions, no we don’t really know how we are back.”

Andi started to approach the group, her wand waving around, casting diagnostic charm on Sirius.

“Well, Nymphadora explained a bit about what was going on, the rest can wait.”

She huffed as she read the diagnostic results, beeping lights, numerals and runes floating around their target. 

“Sirius, you and I are going to talk when all is done here because you obviously never bothered to see a Healer. You are in an appalling state. You should be in bed.”

The man tried to make himself disappear by hunching his shoulder under the gaze of this cousin, but that didn’t seem to calm the older woman. 

******

The group was in the middle of the hallway. Nobody was near, most of the other members of the Order had left the place to go back to the kitchen. The numerous teenagers present in the Headquarter had witnessed to the whole confrontation and the follow-up. They had stayed hidden on the balconies overlooking the hallway, and since nobody had realized they were there, had been left alone. Hermione had left the balcony for the ground floor as soon as most of the Order had left the corridor. She hovered in the back of the corridor, not wanting to disturb the group but anxious to get a look at Eleanor.

Well, she didn’t want to be thought of as imposing upon Lily’s business, since that seemed a way to end up in a world of pain. She didn’t know much about Ellie’s parents, except that they were supposed to be dead. James saw her staying back and observing, without daring to approach closer and gestured for her to come forward while Andromeda, Lily and Sirius spoke. Only a slight buzzing sound could be heard. Hermione approached gingerly, unsure of what to do. She took Ellie’s hand in her own when she was close enough, and she ignored everybody else. The hand in her own was thin and very cold. It was as cold that November day when Dementors made her fall from her broom, an unnatural cold. Her face was shimmering as the air above a road in the dead of summer. She started to review everything that could cause such a phenomenon, without coming to a conclusion. Well, a glamour being fought by a constantly shifting appearance and the wearer magic would work but there was no reason for such a thing in that case. A hand coming to rest on her shoulder nearly made her jump out of her skin and she turned to see Lily's smiling face. 

“Don’t worry, everything will be back to what it should have been. You are Hermione, right? We are slowly losing what we know from beyond the Veil, but well… We have seen so much of you that I don’t believe we will ever forget you. And I thank you for being here for our daughter. We are going to have to move from that hallway as soon as Albus is back but you can come if you want.”

Hermione didn’t let go of Ellie’s hand and faced her mother, smiling shyly at the older woman. She didn’t look thirty years or so that was her age but more the twenty-one years old she had been when she died. 

“Thank you, Madam. I will not be in the way, I promise. Why must she always end like this? ”

“Don’t call me Madam, I’m going to expect my mother. It’s Lily to you, my dear.”

******

The Floo was lighted with a whooshing sound and the hallway was bathed in green light. Albus emerged from the fire, and James went to meet him.

“Is it done?”

“Here are the journals I based my work on, and what I finally cast. I didn’t keep most of the notes from that time. I had never planned on lifting it, and since it needed both of your blood to cast, I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to undo it. I didn’t have any left; I used the little I had left from casting Fidelius to hide her. The tap would have failed as soon as she was seventeen so no real point for me to lift it.” 

He had taken out of his pocket three slim journals, old things with frayed edges, and a few pages of parchment. 

No change. Her magic was still fighting the tap. Lily lifted the glamour. Under it, Ellie’s face was shifting wildly, all of its features taking various shapes and colours. Her aura, a mist of silver was still surfacing. Hermione gasped and moved forward, ignoring everyone else. She took her hand in hers, and the shifting slowed down, her aura retreating. 

“We are going to have to lift it quickly. Between the Dementors, casting the Patronus, our resurrection feeding mainly off of her and her magic fighting the ritual it’s a miracle she is not magically exhausted yet.” 

Sirius and Andromeda had approached the journal and sighed when they opened the first page. The author had written his name inside the cover. Phineas Nigellus Black. 

“That confirms what we thought: he used an old variation of a Black family ritual to create the blood wards. He put a tap on her magic to feed them. The blood wards are hard to maintain such power intensive wards without ley lines to anchor them. Simply maintaining them would make most wixen unable to even cast a Lumos after that. She would probably end up magically exhausted much quicker, since it’s reducing her magical reserves. It’s a miracle those are large enough for her to be casting a Patronus with such things feeding off of her...”

Hermione couldn’t help herself :

“You mean to tell me that she cast that Patronus in during the third year while being magically limited? And went through a Basilisk and that blasted tournament with that thing pulling on her?”

All the adults in the room seemed shocked and James exclaimed: 

“A Basili… What were you children doing with a Basilisk? Never mind, we will speak of that later. I’m not even sure I want to know. Let’s go back unthreading that damned thing and healing my daughter.”

His gaze promised pain to those who opposed him. Lily could have sworn she heard Hermione muttering about foolish witches killing snakes with swords. She seriously hoped she hadn’t heard right.

“And thank god she hasn’t magically matured yet. If she had, the damages would have probably been impossible to repair and she would have been magically crippled for life. There is a reason the placing of such wards calls for a sacrifice: it was created as a last defensive measure for House Black. Better risking the magic and life of a scion of the House rather than facing eradication. I will go look into the journals from that time for a way to lift it. We will have to adapt it to take into account Albus's variations of it. Do you have any idea of how much time we have, Andi?”

The woman lifted her wand and gestured in a complex pattern while muttering long incantations in Latin. Lily recognized some of the diagnostics spells, but not many. You didn’t educate a Healer in a few months. While she was able to patch up any combat injury not immediately lethal, she had many areas where she was lacking. Andromeda hissed and a fire lit in her eyes:

“We have around twelve hours to lift the ritual before she comes anywhere near critically magically exhausted and risks long term damage. After that, I will want her in a bed for a few days though. And I’m going to skip on the rest for now, her magic is too agitated for proper reading.”

Sirius turned toward James and Lily. While he obviously didn’t look in any way shape or form even close to being in good health, he still had a sharp mind. The Marauders had been troublemakers and somewhat bullies, but brilliant ones. 

“I want to at least consult with Bill Weasley. He is a curse breaker and has more experience unravelling those types of things than anybody else easily accessible. And I need to check the wards of our ritual room. If the Patronus she cast at 13 is anything to go by, if anything goes wrong during the unravelling the magical backlash could level the whole neighbourhood. If we are lucky. Based on what I remember, it could also happen with everything going fine.”

James answered: 

“Fine by me. I wouldn’t trust the warded room in our house. And going to the ICW? They should have both the curse-breakers and warded rooms to help.”

The mention of the ICW seemed to be an issue for Dumbledore who started to open his mouth, but closed it when Lily looked at him. Andromeda intervened as Sirius looked at her, not having an easy answer: 

“We don’t have any good way to contact them. The Ministry still denies them permanent quarters on our soil and our current delegate, since Albus has been sacked, is in Fudge’s pocket so far that we couldn’t even sneeze in his presence without a report being sent. For now, there is no way, but it’s probably the easiest way to deal with your situation.” 

“Well, you can go see Arthur about where Bill is and how fast he can come. The Headmaster will give you the secret. Thank you, Andi.”

Albus had paled as Sirius spoke, and became paler and paler as the conversation continued. He was obviously nervous.

“James, Lily, I’m truly sorry. I thought I was doing all I could to honour the oaths I swore. I would never have done that to her had I known the consequences. How can I make amends?”

Lily started to open her mouth to answer. The gall of the man was unprecedented. They had insisted on oaths to protect their legacy should the worst happen. James beat her to it, after posing a light hand on her arm. He never had any qualm about letting her take the lead but hat was an issue for Lord Potter, not just James and Lily, mother and father of Eleanor Lily Potter.

“You broke faith with our House. You swore to ensure that the name of Potter would continue. You betrayed the intent, if not the word, of that oath. We trusted you due to Gridenwald and you have broken that faith. You want redemption? Well, start earning it. Go now, we will call on you when we have time to speak further.”

The older man looked at James defeated. Spinning on his heels, James asked Sirius :

“Where is your ritual room? Can we already move there and start preparing to unravel that thing?”

*****

Bill had arrived one hour after Arthur had been sent to get him. The redhead was wearing a jean trouser with a dragon leather jacket. He joined the adults working to deconstruct the ritual to be able to cancel it. Hermione had tried to read and help them, but even for her it was just too advanced. The lack of any classes on rituals at Hogwarts was most annoying. She had stayed with Elie. The effect of her presence on Eleanor’s magic was enough to warrant some attention from the older wixen. The why she had that impact wasn’t explained, but her magical connection to her was always in the back of her mind. 

She had followed them through the library into a concealed office. Past that office, they took a staircase that went deep under the house. In the corridor, the smell of moss and humidity was near overwhelming. They walked past four larger steel reinforced oak doors embedded in the granite of the foundation. Runes were engraved on every surface of rock, even the floor, some of them glowing softly with power in the blue light of the magefyre. At the end of the corridor, an even larger door in what looked like solid steel was open. The room was a square, maybe fifteen meters on each side. Columns of red granite were evenly spaced on every side. The runes engraved in that room were more elaborate from the one in the corridor, most of them filled up in a silvery metal. The air was thick and cold, thrumming with power. They had lain Eleanor on the altar in the centre of the room. Four channels, one for each cardinal direction, were going from the marble altar to the sides of the room. Each of those was surrounded by an even more intricate layering of runes, blossoming into patterns engraved on the walls and floor. 

After a few hours of work, they had converted to a way to unravel that mess. It was closer to curse breaking than to ritual magic. The difference between them had been explained to Hermione: ritual magic usually involved someone to be the focus and leader of the magic of the group. He or she would gather power from all the members in the circle and wield their combined power to achieve his goal. That melding of power, due to the strain it imposed on the primary caster, was usually extremely codified and associated with runic and even potion components to help guide the flow of power. It had been the primary way to cast magic for millennium before the development of wands and other foci. 

Curse breaking, on the other hand, while also usually done in group was on the other side of the spectrum. Unravelling curses, especially entrenched in the magic of the place or the person was more a question of meticulous preparation, finesse in the casting and skill. Throwing more power at a curse to dispel ended up being at best a waste of magic. The curses sophisticated enough to warrant the intervention of curse-breakers were usually not that power intensive and relied on specific conditions and timing to be active or do what they were created for. If a curse needed power to do what it was supposed to do, it was usually deadly and fast acting, or easily countered. Ward-breaking was at the crossroad : it required both power and skill.

Most magicals don’t have enough power to cast anything more strenuous than a short distance summoning charm or a Lumos charm without a focus. By throwing more power to the problem, their ancestors had been able to overcome the inefficiencies of wandless casting. Wands were first introduced in Europe in the Greek city of Macedonia. They ended up being the military advantage that helped the creation of Alexander’s empire. Modern spellcasting in Europe relies on wands and is based on the works of the magical researchers from the Roman Empire. They took the Greek wand and adapted most of the magic done in ritual to that more efficient way of casting. Ritual magic slowly disappeared, and quickly was only practiced in small family conclaves, for family specific ritual and magics in Europe. 

Here, the problem was dual: the original casting had been done in ritual and yet the unravelling wouldn’t usually need that much power. Despite all his flaws, Dumbledore being able to cast it alone was an impressive feat of magical power. He had to make Eleanor’s magic submit, and even as a toddler that would have been hard. The issue here was that Eleanor’s magic was feral, fighting it and they were worried that it was going to tear the place down. As soon as the tap was remove from her core, the magic would strike everything to protect its owner. And given her power if that Patronus was anything to go by, it wouldn’t be a good day for anyone near her. So, they had to add ritual components to subdue her magic long enough to unravel it without destroying the whole house. At least that was the theory. Sirius wouldn’t participate: he was needed to power the wards on the room, and Andi angrily railed at him in a scanting rant that he wasn’t strong enough to try to dominate Eleanor’s magic.

Bill moved around the circle, touching runes placed in seven places around the altar. They lit up with a soft silvery hue. Bill, Lily, Hermione, James, Remus, Nymphadora and Andromeda took their place on each set of lighted sets of runes. Hermione was at the head of the altar, Eleanor’s head near her. It had been a real discussion on whether to include her at all, and if so where. Since Hermione was the only one creating a positive reaction out of Eleanor’s magic, she had argued and ended up convincing them that she was the most likely to be able to do something if things went south. Bill joined the circle, opposite to Hermione. Lily exhaled and settled down. She reached deep down into her, bringing her magic to the surface, making it available for Bill to use.

*****

Hermione tried to relax. She was at Ellie’s head , in front of Bill. Her friend’s body was still wildly changing under her own magic, trying to fight off the tap. She focused on herself, on her breathing. She reached inside her, trying to bring her magic to the surface, to allow it to be accessed in the confines of the ritual. Bill took his wand out of his holster and lifted it. He started murmuring under his breath. She felt the pull on her magic and had to fight the instinctual response of denying him access. The magical tap arithmantic structure appeared above Ellie, a construct of magic. The runes she was able to read were speaking of protection and sacrifice, of power and nurturing.

“May Adrestia guide us in our endeavours.” Bill voice resonated around the room, powerful and utterly devoid of emotions. It was a professional doing his work. His wand started waving in complex pattern, tracing runes in the air. As soon as those flashed, they interacted with the magical construct in front of him, allowing Bill to unravel it. He spoke again:

“By the blood of the Lord, I thank you for your fealty to your House.”

James had a ritual knife, a little thing for steel and dragon bone in left hand. He cut his wand hand palm let the blood drip on the floor below him, hitting the runes. The light coming for the circle started to change, from a soft silvery thing to an ice cold blue. Bill hadn’t stopped casting one second, pulling thread by thread of the tapestry of magic above the altar. When a bigger thread resisted him, Hermione felt the power drain from the red-haired wizard increase.

“By the blood of the mother, I thank you for the love you hold for your family.”

A similar knife in her right hand, Lily cut her wand hand. The blood pooled in it, more than the cut would normally bleed before hitting the ground. The air felt electric, the light from the circle became blinding. It didn’t shift colour, but visibly the power dissipation inside the room wasn’t enough to control the massive amounts of magic being thrown off by the dissipation of the tap. Bill’s casting sped up, intensifying the power drain.

It was a race : would the power regulation system of the ritual room hold long enough for him to finish unravelling. Five runes remaining. Even with him trying to reuse some of Ellie’s magic, the drain was becoming important. Three runes and it was finished. A thread of magic inside the construct was resisting. It was large, as thick as a pencil. All hell broke loose. Eleanor’s aura had back down, calmed by Hermione touch before. It had surfaced as soon as the ritual started. It was rising up, fighting the intrusion. It started to lash out around her. Stone chips flew off of the altar, where the concentration of magic was the most important. If a rune from the power dissipation system was damaged, the backlash would be catastrophic. Not that it would matter, because Hermione and everybody else here would be nothing more than atoms in the wind.

Pushed by instincts, listening only to her magic, Hermione slashed her wand against her hand. It wasn’t her wand hand, but it had to do. She hadn’t managed to cast with her non dominant hand, yet. Her blood dripped on the stone, and she spoke in a confident voice :

“By the blood of the bond, I thank you for the sacrifice of your magic for our protection.”

Miracles happened. James and Lily’s resurrection was certainly one of them. The fact that Eleanor magic reacted to her blood wasn’t one, but it was still a welcome change. Ellie’s aura shifted around her and focused on Hermione. When the raven-haired witch’s magic touched Hermione, she felt… happy. Content. It was like a hug from a long-lost friend. She was bathing inside her friend magic. The cut on her hand disappeared. Even her exhaustion from the ritual seemed to disappear.

Bill finished dissipating the runes above the altar. It was as easy as opening a well-oiled door now that the magic was subdued. His voice resonated in the room.

“The circle remains unbroken under Adrestia’s vigil.”

Everything calmed down, Eleanor’s aura disappeared and her body stopped shifting, not struggling to fight of the tap anymore. Everybody, including Sirius who had just controlled the ward to make sure that they didn’t destroy the house, fell to their knees, panting as if they had run a marathon or two.


End file.
